


i could be prey // i could be praying

by Ethereally



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Black Eagles Marianne, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Golden Deer Hilda, Marianne kills Hilda, Marihilda Week (Fire Emblem), Suicidal Ideation, background Edeleth, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22411285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/pseuds/Ethereally
Summary: Marianne's been seeing the Beast in the mirror more and more frequently. Once upon a time, Hilda promised to help her slay it.(Black Eagles Marianne character study, based on the idea that Hilda can't come with her to the Black Eagles, and around the conversation they have when fighting one other at Derdriu.)
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	i could be prey // i could be praying

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Prey by [The Neighbourhood.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PmRFIGhYqfo)
> 
> Please, I implore of you, read the tags - this isn't a happy piece, and there's no happy ending for them. But a lot of the M/M and M/F pairings in this game get fanwork of "what happens when one of them is recruited". I haven't seen as much of that for F/F ships, and I really wanted to explore Marianne and Hilda's dynamic in Crimson Flower. Let girls be angsty and messy and still love each other while killing each other on the battlefield! 
> 
> Granted, now I've done this, I feel really sad OOPS.

Marianne has taken to sleeping in Hilda's room lately. Her single bed is barely big enough for the two of them, and it's hot and sticky when she's pressed up to Hilda in the late summer night. Hilda tosses and turns by Marianne's side, muttering something about being unable to sleep; a pang of guilt stabs through Marianne's chest. Marianne shifts uncomfortably in the sheets. She continues to watch Hilda fidget for a while before mustering the courage to speak out loud, in a voice so soft it is barely a whisper. 

"Should I leave?" 

Hilda shoots Marianne a quizzical glance. "Of course not," she says. She sits up in bed, scooping up the blanket covering them before throwing it to the ground with a dramatic flourish. She turns to Marianne, smile ever-present on her lips. "There we go," she says with a laugh. "I think we'll sleep much better like this. Don't you agree, Marianne?" 

"Yes," she murmurs, sinking her face into her half of the pillow. Marianne hates inconveniencing Hilda, but she is a calming presence even when she's not saying very much at all-- and it was Hilda's idea to sleep together, like this, together in her room. 

Guilt wrenches through Marianne once more. It is a welcome emotion, compared to how she has been feeling for the last week. Flayn's disappearance and the subsequent flurry of rumors following it have struck a bone-deep fear in Marianne, a panic that rumbles through the pit of her stomach and under her skin. The whispers in the hallways about her being cursed seem to grow louder every time she steps into a new room, and the notion that she might be responsible for Flayn's disappearance lingers like a ghost. It feels like Professor Hannemann's gaze hasn't left Marianne for days. 

Irrational as it may be, Marianne can't help but start to wonder if she might be responsible. She can't help but wonder if this is somehow be the work of the Beast, the shadow of her forefathers possessing her and making her do heinous things in the dark of night.

Hilda's voice interrupts her spiral, commanding, confident and clear. 

"Are you alright? You seem even more scared and pathetic than usual, Marianne. Just like a startled bird." 

Hilda places a reassuring hand on Marianne's shoulder, and Marianne almost yelps in shock. "I'm fine," she mutters, turning her head to avert Hilda's gaze. She shouldn't be thinking about how she can almost feel Hilda's breath on her face, how Hilda's callused hands are grazing her bare skin. She isn't deserving of this daydream. Hilda clicks her tongue in disagreement, giving Marianne a gentle shake. 

"I didn't invite you here just to do our hair and talk about girls. I'm not foolish, Marianne. I've heard about the rumors, and they're clearly bothering you. Why don't you talk to me?" 

Marianne's eyes widen. "Talk to you?" 

Her heart feels like it will burst through her ribcage, and she can't tell if it's from fear or something entirely more sinister. Hilda inches closer towards her. It takes every ounce of courage that Marianne has not to back up against the wall. This isn't what it's like in the storybooks; panic and romance aren't supposed to be one and the same. Yet Marianne can't tell what's driving her racing heart and her quickened breaths, though she suspects it might have something to do with how Hilda's hair smells like strawberries. She squirms where she's lying. Hilda nods, ever-confident and so, so assured.

"We're friends, aren't we, Marianne? That's what friends do for each other. We talk," Marianne can't help but turn to look at her, like a humble weed inching towards the light, "And we listen. So tell me-- how are you feeling?"

"He's getting louder. I fear he might consume me."

If words could take a physical form, Marianne would be scrambling to shove them back down her throat. Instead, she stares up at Hilda, wide-eyed in terror at the magnitude of what she just said. 

Hilda's eyes narrow with concern. She inches closer towards Marianne, cupping her cheeks with both her hands. 

"What do you mean by that?"

The rational part of Marianne is shrieking at her to stop, but the sincerity in Hilda's voice compels her to continue, _continue_. "T-- there may be a beast inside me," she somehow sputters out, voice shaking. "He's connected to my Crest, and sometimes I think he speaks to me, telling me to do horrible things--"

"What things?" Hilda asks, voice calm and level. Marianne wonders how she can remain so poised when she is essentially telling Hilda her darkest secret; sharing the forbidden knowledge of the cursed blood in her veins. 

"I-- I can't talk about them. You would view me differently. And one day, the beast could take control of me, and lash out, and hurt people like you and Leonie and Claude and I--" Her voice hitches in her throat. Tears are streaming down Marianne's face uncontrollably, and Hilda reaches out towards her bedside table to grab a tissue. Marianne blows her nose into it, making the loudest, most ungraceful sound, and what a fool Hilda must think she is right now. She sniffs, wiping at her eyes. 

"Y- you mustn't tell anyone. Please, Hilda, I'm begging you, if I ever turn into a monster, will you--"

Hilda interjects. "There won't be a need for that."

She sits up straight, authoritative. Marianne blinks at Hilda through her tears. Is she not going to scream and run away, or tell Marianne to get out? Marianne would hardly blame her: she isn't worthy of Hilda's effort, or time, but she has already taken so much. Yet Hilda smiles, softly, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on Marianne's forehead.

"Thank you for telling me," Hilda whispers, taking Marianne's hand and playing with her fingers. "But if it ever comes to that-- if the Beast ever rears its head, we'll find a way to stop it. Together. Okay?"

"Can we actually?" Marianne says, but Hilda places a finger on her lips.

"We'll find a way. Claude's a smart guy, and he's always poking around in the library trying to learn the Church's secrets. I'll drop him a well-placed question and see if he's heard anything about Crests and beasts. Who knows what he might have learned."

Marianne feels like she's been punched in the chest. "Please-- please don't tell Claude," she pleads. "Nobody else can know. You mustn't tell anyone!"

Hilda shakes her head. "I know I like to gossip, but I swear I won't tell a single soul for something this important. Don't worry," she winks, "I'm an expert at getting what I want. I did get you to open up to me, after all! Thought you'd never get around to it." 

She smiles, and Marianne feels something close to what hope must be like. It's a light, airy feeling, foreign in the cavity of her chest. Hilda clasps both Marianne's hands in hers. 

"If it ever comes down to it, we'll slay the Beast together! And both live to tell the tale."

The Professor doesn't speak much, but her words are like honey when she does. _Join my class_ , she whispers to Marianne in the dining hall a few days later. _You don't deserve those rumors, and the Black Eagles could use your talents. Think about it, and let me know._

The offer rings in Marianne's mind through the rest of the day, and doesn't leave her when she returns to Hilda's bed at night. "Someone values me," she whispers underneath her breath, a smile appearing on her lips despite herself. It might be nice to be in a different class, with a tutor who, unlike Professor Hannemann, is not constantly harassing her about her Crest. The Professor could protect her. 

(The Professor mentioned her _talents_ , and the very thought sends a thrill of glee rushing through Marianne's veins.)

Marianne talks to Hilda first, who is surprisingly encouraging. "You should go," she says, all smiles and eyes bright, "Hannemann is a weirdo anyway. I don't think he knows what he's talking about." 

It takes all Marianne's courage to approach the Professor in the courtyard a few days later. Shivering, she brings herself to speak the words that will change her life:

_"Um, Professor? I-I have a request. It's about your class..."_

Lady Rhea is a monster. Marianne has seen her true form herself-- a beast with sharp fangs, beady eyes, and a hunger to strike down anyone who stands in her path. The latter part is what Marianne finds truly grotesque. A demonic form is something Marianne can stomach, but Lady Rhea spat in the Professor's face and called her a mistake, an abomination: all for not wishing to strike down a child. 

Marianne and the rest of the Black Eagles fled from the Holy Tomb five years ago, Edelgard leading them to a quiet hideout where they could plan their next attack. Together, they formed the Black Eagle Strike Force, and seized Garreg Mach from the Church of Seiros' grasp. Led by Edelgard's unyielding fist and the Professor's sharp wit, their army was able to topple the church. Not the Goddess herself, but the corrupt institution that claimed to represent her. 

The Professor vanished soon after the battle. Marianne couldn't help but think of the Professor as the mermaid from the stories Claude used to tell, the mystical girl who made a pact with a witch and became seafoam upon returning to the ocean. But there was no time to mourn, as the newly-formed Strike Force had to work. Marianne choked back tears and held her head up high. This was her part to play in building a better Fódlan.

She'd been stunned speechless when the Professor returned last month. Now Edelgard's trump card has returned to her, she can execute her plan with swift precision, and Marianne watches Edelgard plot with a mixture of fascination and awe. 

(Marianne notices Edelgard's fingers brush against the Professor's, and smiles a small, knowing smile.)

They will ride forth for Derdriu next, Edelgard announces at a war council meeting one day. They are preparing to meet the rest of the Alliance army there, including Claude's top generals. Her voice is steadfast and resolute, but it strikes a chill of terror into Marianne's heart. "We will spare anyone who stands down," Edelgard announces, but those words are cold comfort as opposed to relief.

 _Hilda will be there_ , the Professor says without words, her unblinking eyes meeting Marianne's. _Are you ready to fight her?_

Marianne closes her eyes, trying not to think about Hilda. Bright, radiant, Hilda, unabashed and unafraid, her friend who'd dragged her laughing onto the dance floor during the Millennium Festival. Hilda, who'd once thrown a book on chivalry out the second-floor window of her bedroom, before flopping onto the sheets and declaring that there was no cause and no-one worth dying for. Hilda, who'd taken up arms against the Black Eagle Strike Force during the Battle of Garreg Mach regardless. Marianne had noticed Hilda slicing and dicing Imperial soldiers through the corner of her eye, her uniform stained and hair matted with blood. 

Maybe she would surrender now. Perhaps Hilda would listen to reason this time, and stick to what she had said in her bedroom so many years ago. 

( _She won't_ , the Beast rumbles, and Marianne pushes it to the back of her mind.)

Derdriu is as beautiful as it was before Marianne left for Garreg Mach-- blue skies and sprawling oceans, but this time, there are merchants shrieking as they scramble to leave the port. "No citizens are to be harmed," Edelgard barks, but Marianne knows that this is a pipe dream at best; it is inevitable that innocent lives will be taken when their swords clash for war. Her heart aches for the innocent, and she sends a silent prayer to the Goddess as the Empire's flag waves behind her. An apology for the lives she has taken, and for the lives she will have to take today.

The Professor had honed her talent in Faith magic, but also taught her how to use a lance. It proves useful as an Alliance mage recklessly charges towards Marianne, and she pierces the tip of her weapon into their chest; she can't help but notice that they are wearing the pink colors of House Goneril. Marianne is permeated with a murky sense of dread. She can taste bile at the back of her throat, but she grips Dorte's reins, and presses on: there is no turning back. She grits her teeth, and tries her best to think of the end goal. A world where Crests and Relics don't matter. 

At least her talents are best used to heal wounds rather than cause them. Marianne says a quick prayer for her fallen opponent, before rushing up towards an allied soldier who was hit by a stray flurry of arrows. She envelopes her hands in light, doing her best to push all thoughts of bloodshed away as much as possible. The crippling guilt can consume her later when she's alone, and doesn't have an entire army relying on her. 

Her train of thought is interrupted by a familiar flash of pink.

Hilda swoops down on her wyvern. Her eyes are narrowed when she meets Marianne's, and the same crushing feeling of dread from earlier returns with full force. Somehow, Marianne musters the courage to speak. 

"I-I'm so sorry, Hilda. I..."

"It's okay, Marianne. These things happen in war."

Her voice is surprisingly calm, free of guilt and anger-- is that a sad smile on her lips? Marianne can't tell, but there's barely enough time to decipher Hilda's body language. Hilda raises her axe, sending it crashing down towards Marianne in a sweeping motion. Dorte lets out a loud neigh, side-stepping the blow. Hilda raises her axe again, and Marianne shrieks.

"Hilda, I don't want to hurt you. Please, Hilda--"

Hilda doesn't respond, but her wyvern swoops towards Marianne and Dorte. Marianne knows that there's only one way this battle can end. Swirling darkness dances around her fingertips, and she raises both her hands, sending wisps of black and purple flying towards Hilda, hitting her square in the chest. Hilda screams, tumbling from her wyvern and crashing onto the ground. Marianne can hear Hilda's last words echo from where she lies.

"It's been fun, Claude... Sorry to go so soon."

Maybe it's her guilt, maybe it's her imagination, but Marianne swears that she hears Claude yell-- she hears Claude howling Hilda's name, pleading at her, why she didn't retreat, why she didn't just run while she could! Marianne is paralyzed with panic-- _you did this, you did this, how could you. _The Beast cackles, rubbing its skeletal hands together.__

___It was always going to come down to this. You know you harm anyone you care for._ _ _

__A javelin brushes Marianne's shoulder, and she looks up to see an army of wyverns charging towards her. For a split second she ponders just allowing them to destroy her. The Beast is right, and it's what she deserves-- Marianne hangs her head, accepting her fate._ _

__A flurry of arrows jolts her out from her thoughts. Ashe, leading a battalion, rides up to Marianne's side; he reaches out to grab Marianne's shoulder._ _

__"We have to go," he murmurs, and Marianne knows he is right. She casts Hilda's body one, last, forlorn glance, and chokes out the words "I'm so sorry."_ _

__The Alliance flags in the distance are beginning to retreat, and the Empire's banners push forward in a bloody sea of red; a loud fanfare declares that the battle is over far sooner than she could have hoped to expect. At the first, trumpeting sound of victory, Marianne turns tail, rushing up to where she left Hilda lying._ _

__She can't pretend that Hilda looks peaceful in death. Her clothes are charred where Marianne's Nosferatu spell hit her, skin peeling back, flesh underneath fermenting in decay. Her face is pale, her eyes are shocked open, and there is no smile on her lips-- the same lips Marianne had dreamed of kissing so many years ago. Marianne dismounts Dorte, clutching Hilda in her arms. Tears spring to her eyes, and a litany of apologies fall from her mouth._ _

__"Hilda, Hilda, I'm sorry, _Hilda_ \--"_ _

__There is no storybook death for soldiers. Marianne leans over to seal Hilda's eyelids shut, but there is no lying to herself. And this time, Hilda isn't here to hold Marianne's sobs back._ _

__The murmurs that Claude has surrendered echo through the battlefield. Marianne does not cheer with her army in victory; she nuzzles her face into the crook of Hilda's neck, clutching her body desperately in her arms. The passing voices in the background warp, and shift, providing Marianne with blurry updates of what is next to come. General Ordelia surrendered in a separate skirmish, just like Claude told her to. She has his blessing to join the Empire army, and she will gather her belongings and ride forth with Edelgard at dawn. Marianne lets out a pained sob. Someone may as well have skewered Blutgang through her chest._ _

__All her old Golden Deer classmates who fought for the Alliance today lived, except for the one who mattered the most._ _

__Deep inside Marianne, the Beast grins._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Vasya](%E2%80%9C) and [Devin ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imalright/pseuds/imalright)for proofreading this for me. 
> 
> I'm sorry, Hilda. I'm going to have to write some happy MariHilda to make up for this, aren't I.


End file.
